(Though I appreciate comments, this blog site does not take comments. Too much spam! Please use email address on the sidebar. The piece on the Ann Hamilton SFMOMA installation follows this entry. If you are looking info on how to acquire Walking Theory, it is also just a little further down! Thanks for visiting.)
An Ancestral Round
A year ago, about this time, I was in Glasgow. Back in the Sixteenth Century, it was the home of my ancestors on my mother’s side. The family name was Moor, and I knew from records that they were from Argylshire. Frankly, however, I was ignorant of Scottish history. I knew little more than that they were Protestants, and at one point had fled to Ireland for a couple of generations, and then came to New England and settled in New Hampshire in the 1640’s.
I had, however, come to an age where I thought I should make a more conscientious search. In Glasgow I entered a particular library noted for its geneological records. At the offices, a few floors up from ground level, I was informed that there was very little from the 16th Century, and nothing on the Moors. I almost felt that my question was a subject of humor, in the way that certain kinds of librarians conceal their humor about what are considered futile, eccentric searches.
Wonderfully, and quite accidentally, when I dropped down a couple of floors, I found myself drawn into a room full of puppets. I immediately chose them as my ancestors. Though they were from different countries and continents, they seemed very familiar. The kind Librarian let me take these pictures. Maybe he sensed - perhaps, similar to his own self - that I had this connection. As you may, too. Indeed, a drawing somehow instantly appeared to my eye that was much like an ancient, strong, enduring, and no nonsense mother.
God knows if she was also a Moor. But after the downfall I experienced in the room with the geneological records, I was quickly uplifted and felt like a nosey, talkative, cheery kid. So quickly, it seemed, did I find my counterpart. He looked like he could happily put his nose into anything!
And a sister, appeared suddenly as well. We did not talk much, or even try to figure each other out! Sometimes all folks need is the kinship of visual company! Who could not feel comfortable with her? I had to hold back from touching my fingers on to the ringlets of her hair!
If I had looked harder about, I am sure I would have found an evil sister and an evil brother. But none appeared.
Suddenly a guide and protection did appear! A few weeks back I thought I had seen this guy on Valencia Street in San Francisco, the bandana around his forhead, speeding down the street on a thin wheeled bike.
No matter what you wanted or where, he could - on bicycle or foot - take you there. Swift as Hermes. Note the peripheral vision emanating from those eyes. Cheery guy, too!
Of course, the teacher has to show up and provide instruction, even if it is just the gesture of such. I cannot tell if it’s a she or he. But whatever the pout in that face, that tilt in the chin, somebody has to know more than I do; someone who has learned more than once of the bodies that have fallen.
Such as it should be among the ancestors. No matter who, where or when, the generations are full of casualties - sword, rifle, noose. Some where along anyone’s trail, you, too, might fall witlessly, even those among us who assume to be blessed with a long life, consider themselves strong and unaccountably wise.
Trust him, this joker, I did not. This one would smile his way through bankruptcy, small or major thefts. Romance breaker, political double-talker, I am sure we each have a list! Charming though! Even when he pulls the rug out from under your feet, what is it about something in us, even if only on a rare occasion, likes to get kicked around? There is always one or two in the family tree. If you can, check it out, generation by generation.
Of course I have to meet an artist, the imaginative conductor of us all! No matter his body begins to fade, he still puts on his stripes and colors and raises his hands to greet the audience and never drops his smile. I am sure you have known, or, at least, witnessed these ancients still living among us. Generous and without bitterness to the end, they wave us on, insisting on faith in art and work. No doubt, more than once, he’s put some sugar on that open hand.
By the way, there is always one – poet, dancer, painter, playwright, etc. – in the family echelon. Ignore them at risk!
I meet this one in a dark corner. Doesn’t he look like he chewed up more than a few souls in his life – long ago, back in the day before the enforcers began to wear suits and ties. Now he looks like he finally got his due.
As often said, if your enemies don’t get you, certainly old age will! Note that navel will you! An odd way to call out for his long gone mother? Who knows? An ancestor? Not a family that goes without one of those.
Invevitably, with a little pursuit, I got to meet him! That is, the ancestor ghost. He is a quiet charmer. Note the gloves on the long hands, the poised sense of surgical preparation. Who knows what he is about to open and retrieve?
He is caring as a minister who will gently pluck out the family secrets. Then put them on the table for a little talk. You will get what you want. You might love or hate any of the accounts. The ghost is not here to make a story, a Broadway hit! He just wants to relieve you of your burden. You can kind of sense that’s his loving job. Inevitably, he seems to suggest, even though it’s a scary thought, sooner or later, we will each, in our own way, give him welcome.
It was the close of day. I thanked my kind host, and left the Library, practically stumbling out into the gray Glasgow streets, my head aflame with the puppet faces and wardrobes. Those dear puppets, indeed! Gradually I awoke to realize I had just been given a play within a play. What did I learn? It doesn’t go forward, it just goes round and round, And for that, there in a Glasgow library, in search of ghosts of my own, I had been astonished, relieved and grateful. After all, what’s a good Library for?
++++++++++++++++++++
Many have emailed to ask exactly where is this amazing collection of puppets. When I wrote my blog piece, I was just bouncing off the puppet photographs
and memory. But here is some of the full dope on this collection that I was able to research on the web:
Place: Glasgow Mitchell Library
The John M. Blundall Collection of Puppets, Masks and Creative Theatre
Theatre using puppets, masks and performing objects is one of the oldest
forms of creative expression. The Mitchell houses one of the richest and
most important collections of specialised creative theatre material, tools
and human resources to be found anywhere in the world.
This Collection has been amassed by John M. Blundall over nearly fifty
years. It is a major educational resource, representing most cultures
throughout the world. It also contains a fine range of specialised tools and
equipment for the creation of puppets, masks, scenic elements and decorative
woodwork.
